The end of the year…?

So yesterday I landed in France- A place I that I’ve had the privilege and delight to call home for over 12 years. Where I grew up, attended both primary and secondary school before we moved back to the UK to do GCSES, A-Levels and now uni, for my sister and chef school for me. My family return to France every summer, just enough time for the end of the cherry season and to plant up all the veg in the garden which will be our food source for the following weeks.

For me, going to France signifies the end of the year, much more than December itself. Maybe its due to the school mentality. Its the time where I actually get to unwind and relax from all the previous endeavours. Its been a pretty intense and busy year, I moved to London where I enrolled in the chefs diploma course at Leith’s School of Food and Wine over 9 months. Here I chopped, braised and pureed my way to a qualified ‘chef’ (although this is rather a official and grown up title to me- when does someone really become a chef?)

I’ve trawled my way around London, knife bag over my shoulder, doing variousstages and work experiences (basically just free labour for them, which in some places meant I was used to pick coriander, fill vacancies whilst staff went on holiday or make them staff lunch)

I experienced my first Michelin star kitchen, an English countryside wedding and large events catering as well as a couple of private chef-ing jobs, all of which showed me what I really wanted to do, but also what I really, really didn’t want to do. Every week was filled with another experience and each provided me with a few good stories to tell, and sometimes a couple of pennies to keep me going until the next job. I had a very different ‘London uni life’ to others, whilst they were partying hard at freshers I was making orange and thyme tartlets, prawns skewers and various veg for a dinner party of 12 in my small kitchen which I shared with my landlord who kindly let me take it over as she squeezed around me to get to the cupboards, carefully avoiding the cooling tart cases balanced precariously on the coffee jar.

Then it was time to save my pennies (London prices man) and head back to the mountains.

Within 20 minutes from stepping off the airplane I was in the car (its a very small airport) with pa and we were on our way home but not without stopping off at a roadside fruit and veg stall to get peaches the size of my fist, plums so juicy they stained through the tissue, and sun ripened cherry tomatoes which actually tasted like tomatoes. Next stop was my favourite drive-in bakery for ‘Trois baguette s’il vous plait et trois croissants aussi’ we walked away with 4 baguettes and 4 croissants under one arm. Now, even if you only know basic French you might think there was a serious miscalculation but no, if you buy 3 baguettes, croissants or pain au chocolates you automatically get one free! I know, I know. A blessing as well as a curse. Finally, one and a half hours and a baguette after we were bumping down the oh so familiar track. Finally, I was home.

I received a very warm and excited welcome from my two dogs, Suki and Binkie (who then nibbled at my leg- lovingly, I’m sure). The mountain breeze delivered an intense floral aroma of wild lavender and oregano but also the savoury, tomatoey and herby smells coming from the large pot of ratatouille bubbling along on the hob- oh how French! The evening was finished off with a large slice of apple and almond cake made by ma.

This summer I have decided to start a blog, do people even read them? like them? will I keep my word? Who knows- so don’t expect consistent posts. I will however try to make them as interesting and useful as possible. They will mostly just be recipes and a couple of ramblings about whats growing in the garden. Be sure to expect a lot when fig season arrives!